"Let our wolves meet in soul before they meet in blood."
The moon rose like an omen.
Blood-red at the edges. Heavy with unspoken promises.
The wind howled through the battlements of the palace, carrying the scent of metal and ash. War brewed beyond the borders, a storm waiting for the signal to break. The court buzzed with unease—soldiers sharpening weapons, scouts whispering of rogue movements, Flameborn gathering in silence.
And in the center of it all stood Lyra.
Still. Watching. Feeling everything.
She didn't tremble. But her bones knew.
This was the night before everything changed.
Kael found her on the sacred cliffs.
The same place where they'd once fought. Once kissed. Once broken.
Now, she stood there cloaked in black fur, her hair wild in the wind, her eyes reflecting the moonlight like silver glass.
He approached quietly, but she felt him long before he spoke.
"I couldn't sleep," he said.